


Character Study: Trenton Day

by DylanTheDman



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Cute Kids, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Feel-good, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Past Relationship(s), Single Parents, Slice of Life, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DylanTheDman/pseuds/DylanTheDman
Summary: Trent goes almost a day without his daughter.





	Character Study: Trenton Day

You want to know how to tell it’s Friday morning in my house?

When I get the special privilege to be woken up at nine by my daughter, Savanah, instead of my alarm at six. Friday is most people’s favorite day, because the workweek ends, and they get their cue to unwind, but my daughter waking me up is the best aspect of my life. Fridays are my favorite day for that reason.

Savanah is three, and she’s the best person in the world. She looks so much like me, but she’s going to grow up short, like her mom. I kind of hope she has a different personality from Melanie and I—I pray she’s smarter. I think she already is; she knows I need to be at work by noon on Fridays, so my mom will let her into my room, she’ll pet my cheek, and say “Daddy, wake up!”

Most times, I’ll pretend to be asleep for a minute, then grab her up and cuddle for another hour before I absolutely need to leave.

Today was a Thursday, so, instead of my great daughter, I woke up to my alarm. It was six, and far before Savanah would wake up. She wouldn’t wake up until an hour after I left, and I didn’t see why I should hang around if I didn’t get to see my favorite little person. That’s why I took a shower, and ate breakfast with no lagging. By seven, I was out the door.

Thursdays are the days Savanah spends with her mom, Melanie, and I expected it to be a long one, considering Mel turned nineteen today. We hadn’t talked about it—we haven’t been as close since Savanah was born—but I assumed she’d want our daughter with her all day today, considering she usually only had her for three or four hours, before making an excuse to give her back to me early. That was nothing to complain about though; I love Savanah with everything I have.

She’s been my driving force since the day she was born.

I remember holding her, the first person to do so, even before Mel. I was sixteen, and it hadn’t hit me at all. 

While waiting for the delivery to be over, I’d sat outside with my mom squeezing my hand, casually planning what I’d have for dinner. I didn’t get why my mom was so agitated; Melanie had doctors, and a midwife there for her—it’d be fine. There was nothing to be so anxious about; it’d happen, and we’d go home, and have school the next day.

When the doctors told us we could come in, I sighed, and pocket my phone, following my mom, and Melanie’s parents. I was expecting chaos, and blood, and guts, but the room was quiet and sterile. Melanie was passed out, exhausted; a nurse was holding a wrapped up bundle.

At first I thought it was just a lump of sheets, because there was no crying, but as Melanie’s dad guided me forward, the nurse asked, “You’re the father?”

Suddenly racked by the reality, I nodded blankly, and accepted my swaddled daughter.

She was so tiny, and pink, with a little hand up by her round face. She already had my nose, and black hair. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to know if her eyes would be brown, like mine. She let out the smallest yawn I’d ever seen, and brought tears to my eyes. This was real; I had a daughter who I’d have forever, and she was right here, in my arms.

“Mom.” I turned around, holding Savanah like the irreplaceable, treasure she is. “I’m a dad,” I whispered, overflowing with wonder, and amazement for this tiny person, who was half of me. My mom must have took my awe for fear, because she looked at me like she wanted to say she was sorry.

I was crying by that point, looking at tiny versions of my chin, my nose, and my brow, all together on this awesome little girl. When I saw my mom’s hands gently reaching for my daughter, I turned away as if I hadn’t noticed, because I couldn’t let her go—not ever.

“I’m so happy,” I choked. I gave Savanah the first of many kisses, on her tiny pink forehead.

I couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning, when I could kiss that forehead again, but her mom got her time too, even if it was just a few hours a week. I couldn’t wrap my head around not hogging my daughter. Four hours—out of all the hours in the week—seemed like torture to me. Even my nine hours at work, Monday through Thursday, were the slowest of my life. My hours with Savanah felt like seconds in comparison.

Mostly, through my days of working the front desk at a popular gym, I get to daydream a lot. As a man who is a dad first, and person second, I day dream a lot about my daughter. I wonder what it will be like when she starts kindergarten, the person she’ll be in high school, and what kind of adulthood she’ll have. This Thursday, though, I was more occupied by the past.

After only two weeks, Melanie wanted to put Savanah up for adoption, give her up to the state and everything. She tried to do it without me knowing, and I’m forever grateful to her best friend, Ariel, for tipping me off. 

The speed limit went out the window while I punched the gas to Melanie’s house. I tried to reason with her, but she just kept saying it was too hard, and she couldn’t do it, and she had to give her away. Nothing I said could get through to her; ‘Savanah needs us’, ‘We’re her parents for a reason’, ‘What if she got mistreated in the system’, none of it made a difference. The moment I’d first held Savanah, my personality made a one-eighty; I’d gone from a typical lackadaisical teenager, and became a dad—a dad who couldn’t bare the thought of living without his daughter.

After one last foot-stomping “I can’t do this Trent! I don’t want a baby!” I broke, and begged her to give Savanah to me then, if she couldn’t do it. I promised I’d take care of her, and be the best dad she could ask for.

My mom commended me on my maturity when I came home with my baby, after she overcame her shock.

“Trent,” she began cautiously, “You didn’t think whatever you just did through, did you?” She said it as if she was hoping I’d snap out of it, and return Savanah, but I couldn’t do that without also giving her away. I held her protectively to my chest, not anywhere near ready to let go.

“Melanie wanted to give her up to the state,” I explained. “She can’t just throw our baby to the system.” That wasn’t all of what I wanted to say, but that was all I found the strength to say. I was exhausted after the yelling with Melanie that all boiled down to she didn’t want to be a mom. I was a dad, whether I liked it or not now, I couldn’t deny it. Savanah was my daughter, and I needed to be in her life.

That’s why Savanah has my last name, and not Melanie’s. Trenton and Savanah Day.

I changed it as soon as I could. I’d vowed to do that the night after taking her home. I was co-sleeping with Savanah (stupid, I know, but I hadn’t had time to pick up the bassinet from Melanie), and trying to let her get to sleep before laying down myself. Down in the basement TV room, my mom was watching an episode of Criminal Minds, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open next to her, tired to the bone from the events of the last two weeks. When she started talking, I barely caught the first part, I was so tired.

“What you’re doing is amazing,” she began, “Not many people would be willing to take this on, much less at your age, after losing your dad so early. Your sense of responsibility makes me extremely proud. Savanah has a wonderful dad.” She reached over, and took me under her arm. She couldn’t hold me for much longer though; she ordered me to bed after I kept nodding off.

In the morning, I woke up to breakfast, and my mom giving Savanah her bottle.

My memory session halted there, however, when my coworker, Blake, tapped my shoulder. Disoriented, I followed his pointing finger toward the door to our daycare. I caught the trailing ends of lights brown hair, and crying that only came out on the bad days.

“Isn’t that—“ I didn’t hear anything Blake said, because I was busy all but hurdling the desk.

The sound of Savanah sobbing came back full force as I yanked the door, rushing up to Melanie, who was in the middle of trying to hand her off.

“What are you doing here?” Perplexed, and a little upset, I demanded. Melanie sighed, because the moment Savanah saw me, she cried even harder, and struggled even more. Instinctively, I snatched her up, patting her back, and calming her almost immediately.

“Let me talk to you outside,” Melanie said. I needed to know what her deal was, why she was so determined to push her own daughter away, so I promised Savannah I’d only be a minute. She tearfully conceded.

Outside the daycare doors, I asked again, “What are you doing here?” Much calmer this time.

“Savanah was crying all day, she wouldn’t let my parents near her, wouldn’t let me pick her up; it was ruining my birthday. I have to give her back to you.” Melanie held her hands up, like she was refusing to touch the responsibility. Like every other time, she put it on Savanah that she never saw herself as a mom. She had never become a parent, despite carrying our daughter for nine months. Sure, at fifteen, it’s almost impossible to be anything but a child, but sixteen isn’t far off, and I’d been a dad ever since.

Quietly, I admonished, “You can’t blame her every time. She’s three, she doesn’t understand yet.” I shook my head. “You can’t pass her off every time—“

“She cried all day, Trent. For you. She does that every time. What am I supposed to do?” Melanie demanded quietly.

That surprised me, a little, but I’m still not sure why. I knew I was affectively Savanah’s only parent; from her first memory, it had been her and I, with visits to a woman she only saw for hours few and far between. It seemed just as much as Savanah was the most important person in the world to me, I was to her as well. I was her daddy; the person she woke up every Friday morning, the person she drew pictures for, and the person who tucked her in at night. It was no wonder she cried for me.

I couldn’t argue with Melanie, so she left, and returned to the remainder of her birthday.

Just like I’d promised, I scooped Savanah out of the daycare, and she joined Blake and I, scanning patrons in for the last two hours of my shift. I can’t say I tried to be mad at Melanie; I was the odd one, what normal teen’s world falls into place when they have a baby? Plus, like I’ve said before, I’m always happy when I have Savanah.

Blake swiped our coworker Savannah’s name tag, pinned it to my Savanah’s dress, and nearly giggled himself to tears at the tag implying my three year old was a manager. The never-ending struggling with Melanie had left as soon as it came, and I went home feeling great, with my daughter on my hip. She babbled on about the birthday party, and I responded with amusement.

Now, I sit here, in the basement TV room again; the sound from the TV faded into white noise long ago. Savanah had fallen asleep on my lap not ten minutes into Zootopia; her spindly arms clasped around my neck, and face mushed to my chest. She breaths, soft and even, while I pet her curly black hair, soothing her further into slumber.

I can hear my mom coming down the stairs slowly, trying not to wake Savanah up, until she’s right over the back of the chair.

“Trent, you should both get to sleep,” she says, “So she doesn’t sleep too late tomorrow.”

And I will, when she wakes up to go to the bathroom, or to ask me for a glass of water. I know if I just stood up now, she’d hang onto my neck like a necklace, even in sleep—it’d happened before. I’ll let her glom on to me for now; it sounded like that’s what she wanted all day, and I can never leave her wanting.

Then tomorrow, we can do it all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I work in a gym irl, and Trent's appearance is based off a regular named Corey.


End file.
